


In Your Hands Hold The World

by alyyks



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, GFY, M/M, Post-Order 66, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 16:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5749996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyyks/pseuds/alyyks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There’s blood on your hands,” the apparition said.</p><p>“… I’m aware of this.”</p><p>“No, you—” The apparition sighed, and his face took on the sad and tired expression Cody had seen his General sport more than a few times.<br/>+<br/>For the prompts by theyoungwander and commonplacecaz: Obi-Wan, Cody and “There’s blood on my/your hands.”<br/>& Cody/Obi-Wan, “I’m fine.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Your Hands Hold The World

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted unedited on tumblr. 
> 
> For the prompts by theyoungwander and commonplacecaz: Obi-Wan, Cody and “There’s blood on my/your hands.” & Cody/Obi-Wan, “I’m fine.”

The door to the small room opened and closed very quietly, just fast enough for Cody to see out of the corner of his eyes the indistinct people standing outside, just fast enough to see who had come in.

“There’s blood on your hands,” the apparition said.

The voice alone, once upon a time, would have sent Cody in a half-aware state. _Execute Order 66. Good soldiers follow orders._ The voice alone, once upon a time, would have been _CommandingOfficerSafetyKeepHimSafeTrust._ Cody swallowed, kept his head down.

“… I’m aware of this.”

“No, you—” The apparition sighed, and his face took on the sad and tired expression Cody had seen his General sport more than a few times. Then the apparition grabbed his hands, and he could feel this. Cody idly wondered how badly he was injured, if he was hallucinating touch. If he was hallucinating his General. If he was hallucinating being out of armor, and the small room he was in and its too-hard bunk, and the hum of an engine, instead of the joke of the new armor, and the brilliantly white rooms of Tipoca City, and the blaster fire that had rained down for what had felt like hours.

The apparition —because it could not be Obi-Wan Kenobi, it could not be the General, it could not be _his_ General— turned Cody’s palms up gently in his hands. There was blood in the lines of his palms —where had his gloves gone?—, one long tear gaping open but not bleeding below his left thumb, gauntlet pieces and gravel imbedded in his right. And blood. Cody didn’t remember whose blood it had been. There weren’t many brothers left to remember the names of.

There weren’t many brothers left, he was now training regular-born troopers who were too old to shut up and learn and who thought they were owed their places as opposed to ‘people like him.’ Those, he didn’t remember their names.

Keno-The apparition sighed, and cleaned Cody’s hands with quick, efficient moves, the wipes smelling of nothing, not even water. Cody felt he had smelled nothing but water for years, that the wars had been nothing but a brief pause into an existence of water and salt. Born of Kamino and now, he would die on Kamino too.

The apparition was talking to him. “-der? Commander- Cody, do you know where you are?”

It dragged a snort out of him. His hands looked clean now, the gash covered in a thin strip of bacta, the pieces and gravel removed and the holes bandaged. Clean, like a dream. “Probably bleeding to death in a corridor.” He’d die at home. He wasn't decided on it being a mercy or not.

The apparition put a hand to Cody's face. In any other circumstances, Cody'd have recoiled from the overly familiar touch—but what could it hurt, now, to allow himself this? Cody closed his eyes and leaned into the warm calloused palm, thanking his… mind, subconscious, even the Force, for whatever was giving him this. He had been alone for so long, Rex gone, the 212th  wilted down to nothing, Kenobi and Tano and all the others hunted and killed until none of them remained, nothing left but orders increasingly hard to follow—they weren't flesh droids, they were men, they were thinking beings and there were things, there were orders that could not be followed. Umbara always stayed like a weight on his chest in the dark when those orders crossed his HUD. Really, being send to train troopers who balked at being taught by a clone had been a relief in the end.

He had so much blood on his hands.

“Cody. You are not dreaming.”

He shook his head. No. No it could not be a dream, because he did not deserve this. He did not deserve a small room and a too-hard bunk and to have his hands cleaned and his General being _kind_ to him. He did not deserve to have outlived all of the 212 th , to have carried the orders of the Empire, and to be here wherever it was, now. Cody kept his eyes closed, kept the illusion—but which illusion? That he was dying and this was a dream? Or that this was real and he could have it?—going.

There was a knock at the door, then a voice—young, smooth. “Kenobi? Is everything ok in there?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Yes, things will be okay,” Obi-Wan Kenobi said.

+

The _Venator_ -class Star Destroyer _Ghost_ was, appropriately, a ghost of a time past. Appropriate given the ones crewing her, too. All that was missing was red and gold open circles painted on its hull and Cody would have been incapable of telling anyone which year it was, not that he didn't already have that problem on some days—four years of an active chip and five years under the Empire would do that to one. It was a relic that should have had housed over seven thousand and a full complement of fighters, gunships and transports; now it was a relic crewed by a few hundred and their families for the ones who had any, and many droids, and with her flight deck visited only by hooded figures and smugglers.

Cody leaned against the window, trying to match the stars out there to any place, any map he knew. He had never managed yet in the few months he had been onboard, and chalked it to the ship dropping out of hyperspace in the most desolate places, the in-between between stars and systems and hyperspace lanes.

The door hissed open.

It was commonly understood that the starboard observation room below the twin bridges with the locking door, one of the few that still worked in the way it had been built originally, was Cody's retreat. The crew understood the need for space, and for privacy, doubly so for the few brothers there —Nayc, Apeli, Huit, Salt, Dral— their eyes reflecting the nightmares and the resolution Cody understood all too well.

He had kept the lights off save for the emergency light, and so the much brighter illumination from the corridor shone in the window, setting the dark silhouette of the one entering in the stars. Cody didn't turn around.

“I’m fine.”

“I have yet to say anything,” Kenobi said, taking a couple steps in for the door to slide shut behind him.

Cody didn't answer, didn't dare turn his head to look at Kenobi. He… there was no functioning chip overriding his thoughts, not anymore, hadn't been for too long—that was blood on his hands he was entirely responsible for. He had no reaction to Kenobi that he could not control, or so he told himself. The guilt and anger, he could deal with. The urge to be _touched,_ for the kindness Kenobi had shown him when the Alliance had raided Kamino and that he kept showing him— shared meals, smiles, offers of sparring in the dead of the _Ghost_ 's night-cyle—, familiar but distinct from the camaraderie they had shared during the wars, Cody didn't know what to do with.

Kenobi stepped up to the window, looking out to the empty space like Cody had done. Cody didn't ask where they were.

He only had to reach—and Kenobi would be there, alive under his hand.

“There somewhere I need to go, and I'd like you to come with me,” Kenobi said, still staring at the stars.

Cody turned slightly to look at him, frowned. “Why me? Anyone would go with you. Take Huit and Salt. Take Asha.” Asha had been the guard assigned to 'look over him' in the first few weeks and he _knew_ she saw everything. She moved like she had been part of a fighting force prior to ending on the _Ghost_ and whatever it was affiliated with. She also, unlike a certain number of others and what he had seen of their interactions, did not hero-worship Kenobi. Huit and Salt had some hero-worship going on, but they were brothers—Cody could trust them to have Kenobi's back and to do it right.

“I trust you.”

Cody chocked on air. “I _shot_ you!”

“I'm fine, am I not?”

They were facing each other now, in the dim glare of the constant emergency lights. It washed everything out but the five years between them, but the five years since Order 66, but the five years since Cody had lost his mind and given the order to shot Kenobi.

Cody looked just as old as Kenobi now. Never mind their ages in Standard years: the grey, in hair, in beard, in spirit, showed.

“Are you?” Cody asked. Really asked—he had been on the Ghost for a few months now, and aside from being in the medbay when Kenobi had brought him in and Asha shadowing him after that, he had kept to himself, had deliberately not pursued information aside from than what he could see and hear going from the quarters he had been assigned to the mess, and what his brothers, who also kept to themselves, could tell him. It was still a lot, but it let things hazy. For all intent and purposes, Kenobi appeared to be one of the senior officers onboard, though not given a title other than 'Master'.

Most of the kids called him 'Ben'.

Kenobi sighed and turned to the stars, one arm across his chest, the other going up to stroke his beard. The years blurred somewhat in Cody's eyes.

“Some days are easier than others,” Kenobi said. He turned back to face Cody. “I'm very glad you're with us, Cody.” And then he was the one reaching out, reaching out and putting his hand on Cody's shoulder. Cody took a startled breath—a startled breath that led him to relax muscle by muscle. He hadn't realized how tense he had held himself until then. By the time he was done, Kenobi was smiling at him. A real smile, not the quirked lips he had seen often, and maybe a little too often, that meant explosions and stupid plans, or barely veiled contempt, or another great idea from Skyw-

“I'll go with you,” Cody heard himself say.

+

Kenobi apologized for the lack of space in the hut. Cody didn't even pick up on it, just glad he was out of the wind, sand and sun. It was never a combination that agreed with him, and even less so without armor and temperature controls.

Kenobi went around the shelter, banging things there and opening another there. He came back to the table Cody was sitting at to stay out of the way with a pack, goggles, a large folded piece of cloth and water.

The water, Cody took gratefully. It tasted faintly metallic, though not the metallic of water stored too long. “What is this place?” he asked.

“That would be my house—when I'm on Tatooine, that is.” Kenobi shook the cloth, revealing it to be a long poncho with a hood, its edge frayed but the fabric clearly thick and useable. “There,” he said, extending it to Cody, “that should work for you for outside.” Cody took it without a word, frowning slightly to get Kenobi to continue talking. “I have several water evaporators on the grounds that'll need harvesting, and it'll go faster with two people.”

“How long are we staying here?”

“A couple weeks to a month—I, or at least the crazy hermit from the Dune Sea, needs to make a few appearances in the settlements to keep up the illusion I am here at all times. Then there's someone you should meet.” Kenobi went back to pocking things and making thoughtful noises.

Cody looked at the room. It was cramped, for lack of a better word. With Kenobi busy on one side, Cody got up and explored a bit. A bit was all there was to do, given the size of the place. Fresher at the back, stove in a corner for kitchen, table and storage in the front. The basement room was slightly larger, and noticeably cooler and damper, with multiple species of plants growing haphazardly in too-small raised beds. He recognized some of those, edibles, and guessed the rest was food too.

When he returned to the main room, Kenobi had changed into rough layered clothes, the legs of his pants and his sleeves wrapped with cloth. If he had passed him by in a street, Cody would probably not have given him another glance—or recognized him as Kenobi. He just looked… worn, just another part of the desert, colors faded one into the other.

“You'll want to wrap at least your pants,” Kenobi said. With the poncho, goggles and pack, there were long strips of cloth too now.

“There's only the one bed,” Cody said. He was in control, he reminded himself, of all reactions, his shoulders tight with tension and anticipation both. He'd take the floor, he'd even sleep outside, he'd— but the possibility, the inevitability of touch in shared sleeping space had its grip on his insides. He… _wanted_. For the first time in years, he _wanted_. He wanted for Kenobi to touch him, for his kindness to never be turned away, to be allowed to _stay_. To be allowed to have Kenobi's back again. To be part of something good, again.

He kept his eyes up and his gaze straight and tensed. Kenobi turned to him, both familiar and a stranger again. He raised his hand, and Cody stopped breathing. Stopped breathing until that hand was on his cheek, calloused thumb at the edge of his scar. He closed his eyes, air going out of him. _Not a dream,_ he reminded himself, _not an hallucination. You're on Tatooine. You're free. Obi-Wan's touching you._

“Have I… gotten it wrong?” Obi-Wan's voice was much less assured than it usually was. In a sense, Cody was relieved he wasn't the only one out of his depths.

“No,” Cody forced out of a throat gone tight for entirely different reasons. “No,” he repeated. His hand covered Obi-Wan's. “But you could have said something earlier,” he tried, going for deadpan.

Obi-Wan's answering smile was the most wondrous thing he had seen in years.


End file.
